


Letters and Signals

by fresne



Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: F/F, Yuletide 2012, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 03:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresne/pseuds/fresne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On certain festival days, Melisande took up her pen and wrote.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters and Signals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keerawa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keerawa/gifts).



> The following inspiration for this work and inspiration for my dialogue, where I am not directly quoting, because apt quotes are cool:  
> Jaqueline Carey, Kushiel Series

On the longest night Melisande took up her pen. She wrote to Phedre. "Joy to you, Phedre. As I write now, the Winter Queen rules. She wears a mask of ice and we all to the masque have gone. As you read this, the Sun Prince will have warmed what was cold. That is the nature of writing. What is written is dead the moment it is consigned to the page. Dead and lives again. A memory. For such are the thoughts of those that play at games of Kings and Gods when the night is stretched out on its rack. Memories."

As she went to her prayers for the Kushiel's day of rememberance, Melisande did not write. She gave of her services in the prison. It was a bare thing. A simple thing. What was due. Melisande paid tribute to her house and wondered at the wish for the sound of bronze wings.

As the sun broke for the festival of Eisheth, Melisande watched the young women and men of the little court greet the morning with mock candles made of ribbons. She looked out at the sun staining the sky pink and she took up her pen. She wrote Phedre. "The sun has lit a candle in the sky this dawn. You may guess where I am by this fact. The sun rises. That same sun has risen on you as well. You see by its light as I see. Am seeing. Have seen. Did you play at lighting candles by first light? I think not. But you may guess what day it is that I write this. See how kind I am to you. I leave you clues. The sun rises. Mock candles may somewhere be lit. I think I shall light a candle for you. To see your flinch as the wax cools to you. This paper is a poor substitute for your skin."

At the mid-day for the feast day of Naamah, Melisande stood apart. Her hand on the curve of her belly. She watched the festivities. They were well worth watching. She saw to the appointment of her pleasure chambers. She sat in them and took up her pen. She wrote to Phedre. "Naamah's blessing upon you. May she find favor with you. Although, as you know that is a curse. To find favor in the eyes of the Gods. What the Gods take up, they use well. Parsimonious and given to driving their chosen down the road. The favor from my eyes would have you roped with velvet cords to my cart. I'd have you take me down the streets as the people flung flowers at us. I'd take you up with me so you could whisper in my ear that all are mortal. It would be worth it."

They did not celebrate Azza there. Not in the temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea. Melisande's boat did not win in the boat race. She had not meant it to. She wanted to see watch the winners. They sang and rejoiced in the name of Asherat-of-the-Sea. They went to feed the dolphins. Melisande let fall what she had to feed them. She fed other things that day too. But that was the game.

It made her smile to take part in the feast of Camael. None of the swords flashing in dance flew out of a hand. None of them struck her where she stood. She clapped when the dance was done. Later, she took up her pen. She wrote to Phedre. "Camael has opted not to strike me down on this day. I take that to be a ruse for all that Camael is not known for his ruses. A bluff then. A challenge perhaps. I think I will take up this challenge. What game is worth playing if there are no hostages to fate? I would light a candle for you, but this is the wrong day for that. A flechette then softly pulled across skin in honor of Camael and his bright sword. Not mine of course, but yours. That would be a fine offering indeed to the day."

On the day dedicated to Shemhazai, Melisande bought Phedre a book. She had an additional folio sewn into it. She wrote. "See how I care for you. I had my agents search the markets of nevermind where for this book on the lord of the deep. It's a poem, I know, but there can be truth in poetry. An angel falls in love with a woman. She runs from him and seeks sanctuary in the sea, but the sea is open to him like a pearl. Heretical poetry, but interesting. I hope that you enjoy it. On this day of learning, may you find the knowledge you seek. Unless that knowledge is of myself. In which case, may you remain in ignorance just a little longer."

In the fullness of the year, with the harvest of Anael upon the table, her babe at her breast, Melisande took up her pen. "Blessed Elua cared naught for crowns or thrones." She tapped her pen against her lips and shifted her babe. "But I am not Elua."

She smiled then at her stack of letters. At her book. All unsent.

Instead, she sent red sangoire cloak to warm the flesh of the one she was thinking about.

**Author's Note:**

> If after reading my fiction here, you would like to read more about me and my writing check out my profile.


End file.
